


Outside, Looking in.

by LovelyOne



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:19:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyOne/pseuds/LovelyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julius is given a unique opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Too many biscuits, he decided, was the answer. 

His mother had often warned him about the folly of eating so close to bedtime. And of the consequences of over indulging, though this advice went unheeded from the off.

An entire tin of shortbread consumed at eleven thirty at night whilst in bed was, therefore, going to end poorly if dear mother's words were correct.

Not that it could be helped, Julius had always been prone to comfort eating and he turned to biscuits in the same way a tearful teenage girl turned to icecream whenever pesky negative emotions struck.

Malcolm would surely laugh at him, call him something effeminate like "jessie" if he saw him. Which he would not. Because he had gone to Scotland. 

Malcolm was of course allowed to return to his homeland whenever he pleased and was by no means required to have Julius by his side when he did so. But it was the twenty third of December and Julius had asked him to spend Christmas at home, with him, meeting the rest of the Nicholson family. And Malcolm had expressed exactly zero plans to go anywhere until the moment he heard the words ' family'. After that conversation? Plans to be elsewhere suddenly sprouted, grew and produced fruit in the form of a suitcase at the door, a taxi in the drive and a hurried kiss goodbye with a "see you in a week." thrown casually over a departing shoulder.

And so, biscuits had been consumed, bitter tears (manfully not) cried and uneasy sleep achieved. The consequence, you ask?

The most vivid and bizarre dream he'd ever had.

::::::::

He was in a schoolyard. Wearing his fine, midnight blue silk pyjamas, house slippers and the dressing gown. Biscuit crumbs still visible for those looking closely enough. And it was very cold. 

He could see a sign above the door of the grey bricked building attached to the yard proclaiming his location as St Agnes. Which cleared up none of the mystery really. He glanced around, bemused, breath misting in front of him. His eyes fell on the figure of a man leaning casually against an iron gate post, smoking a cigarette.

"Evening!" Jamie Macdonald called cheerfully, waving his cigarette in greeting.

"What on earth." Julius exclaimed, shuffling his slippered feet over to the man. "What on earth is going on?" 

Jamie stared up into the bleak grey sky and continued to smoke whilst looking thoughtful. After a number of puffs he spoke.

"It's like this. You have a chance to get some answers. The auld fuck will give none, even if you knew which ones to ask. You can take that as gospel." 

Julius was no less baffled. "Answers about what." 

"Fuck sake, Baldy, I've no got the fucking time for this. Answers! To questions like-" here he put on a dramatic, weepy voice, " why oh why won't my wrinkled, scrote-sack of a 'boyfriend' stay with me for christmas..." he raised his eyebrows. "Wanna know?"

-I solemnly swear never to eat before bed ever again- Julius decided. Still, perhaps his biscuit addled mind would come up with a compelling reason for Malcolm's abrupt abandonment. One that wasn't the pathetic 'doesn't love you' that his conscious mind supplied.

"Do I actually have a choice, James?" He asked frostily.

"Nope! This is my show!" The scot crowed, grinning and stomping on the depleted cigarette. "Now let's get inside. I'm freezing my bollocks off!"


	2. Chapter 2

Julius followed Jamie up the stone steps, trying not to express distaste when he shoved his way through the door without knocking. 

"Right so, rules first. No trying to interact. Won't work anyway, we're no actually here, are we? No weeping like a fucking girl over the puir wee boy you're about to see, the man he is will crush your nuts if you soak him in your fucking tears of pity when you next see him and that is NOT the fucking point, right?!" 

Once, a long time ago, Julius had harboured a very specific fantasy regarding Jamie Macdonald asserting his dominance in the workplace. It had involved Malcolm's desk, Jamie crowding his personal space and roaring orders at him while Malcolm sat silently watching from his seat and grinning. It was incredibly arousing. It was also deeply unsettling when the reality of the shorter man's verbal abuse often left him with intense self loathing regarding his privileged lifestyle and an urge to vomit in fear.

Julius had never asked Malcolm about the relationship the two Scots had. He was sure if he got an answer it wouldn't be one he liked.

Inside St Agnes was as dull as outside and only a couple of degrees warmer. 

Some effort had been made towards decorating it for the festive season. Paper loops in various colours were draped across the walls. Threadbare tinsel had been wound around the door handles. The noise drifting through the gap in said door was familiar to Julius. Boys. Lots of boys doing boy things and making boy sounds. The occasional louder voice confirmed in it's accent where they were. 

Although he had already guessed anyway.

"He grew up in a boy's home?" 

Jamie rolled his eyes and pushed him into the room.

A long table stretched almost from one end to another, twelve boys of various ages sat in the seats doing various tasks in preparation for Christmas, mostly either painting on large pieces of paper or gluing one thing to another in vague festive shapes. A portly nun was sat in an armchair in the far corner, next to an open fire, an enormous tabby cat taking up her lap. She was clearly an experienced multi-tasker, knitting away, keeping her eyes on the entire table and bellowing instructions or correcting behaviour without dropping a stitch. 

The boy sat nearest to the door, therefore furthest from the warmth of the fire was reading a book about aeroplanes. None of the others seemed to be paying him attention. Julius felt a shiver creep over him. This was Malcolm. He knew it was even though the boy's head was bent down, his features hidden. His mad brown curls had been viciously tamed for the day, sporting the same side parting as each of the other boys. His clothes were neat, all buttons present and done up. 

Julius knelt down to better see his face. It was thin, he was thin. Naturally so rather than painfully at this point. He was very small.

"How old?" Julius asked without taking his eyes off the profile in front of him.

"Seven. His first month here." Jamie sat on the table, swinging his legs and looking about him with interest. "She's a right old battle axe, that one" he says, looking at the nun as she booms a curse at a red haired boy who was dripping green paint into his smaller neighbour's hair. 

"Where are his parents?" 

His Ma died. Couple of months before this. His Da... dumped him on the doorstep here and disappeared. Fucker didn't even tell him he was going to. Fucking typical" was the snarled reply.

This isn't real, his brain whispered. Just your subconscious trying to explain his behaviour. Nothing more. He's spoken of a niece. He has family. He does.

From behind them the door opened abruptly and a voice filled the large room "Ho Ho Ho!"

"Oh look it's Santa Claus in a magical cloud of alcohol fumes!" Jamie called, merrily

The poorly dressed man did seem a little inebriated, his belt kept slipping down his padded belly and his whispy elasticated beard was hanging below his chin. 

Children have magical sight. They fill in the gaps between reality with ideas and imaginings. To them this poor specimen was Father Christmas. The boys were no different to any other. The oldest might have been entering his teens and looked sceptical but the rest were howling with excitement as he stomped his way to the armchair the nun had vacated, sack over one shoulder.

The old woman shouted for calm and demanded a line was formed. Boys scurried to obey, little Malcolm included. He looked as excited as the others as he stood between two larger bodies.

Then the one behind him suddenly grasped him by the front of his sweater and moved him. Malcolm, clearly startled, let out a brief gasp before he was set back onto his feet, one position back from where he'd started. Then another pair of hands repeated the action.

"Hey! Bad form!" Julius spluttered indignantly. Jamie just shook his head and picked at some drying glue on the table.

"They can't hear you." He sang without humor.

Soon Malcolm had passed from one set of hands to another until he was deposited at the back of the line.

Julius saw that the woman had seen it happening but did nothing.

"That's not fair!" He shouted crossly. Who cared if no one could hear. He wouldn't let his outrage go unvoiced.

"Julius, shut the fuck up will you. It doesn't matter if it's fair. It's life. No, fuck it. It's fucking politics. That's what it is." He stood up. "Just watch."

The line of boys dwindled as each one spent a moment in front of the Jolly Red Man and received a gift from the bag and sat down to unwrap them, chattering happily. 

Eventually it was Malcolm's turn.

Father Christmas asked if he'd been good, Julius wasn't close enough to hear the mumbled reply but it made the old man chuckle and the nun scowl. Malcolm fiddled with the cuff of his shirt as the depleted sack was lifted onto the man's lap. Several awkward seconds of rummaging later and Santa's face became a little redder. He pulled at the nun's arm and whispered urgently. 

She turned to Malcolm with a satisfied smirk and said, loudly enough for the rest of the boys to hear. " It would seem you haven't been very good Malcolm Tucker, there's no present for you this year. Perhaps next year you'll have proved yourself. Let this be a lesson to you all, Father Christmas is watching and if you don't behave you'll end up like Master Tucker here." Some of the boys snickered behind their hands, others looked uncomfortable. 

"Gertrude!" The man gasped, looking horrified at the little boy she had just ridiculed. "He's only just lost his mother!" 

"God works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?" She said, self importantly. 

"Fucking dried up auld CUNT!" Jamie howled, clearly forgetting his own rules in his rage. 

Julius stared at the child, his back had remained ramrod straight throughout the entire injustice. He turned and walked calmly back to his seat, flaming cheeks and overbright eyes the only giveaway to the turmoil he must have felt. He picked up his book with hands that shook and ignored the whispers of the other children. 

The room grew suddenly hazy, Julius had a brief view of Jamie barrelling towards the nasty woman, hands outstretched as though to choke the life out of her and then all about him was brilliant white. 

"What?" He asked the emptiness.

His voice echoing back at him was the only reply.

*

The world drifted back.

It was still very cold.

He was somewhere else though, standing in front of a bay windowed house on an unidentifiable street. Jamie Macdonald was nowhere in sight this time. Julius scratched his bald head in confusion and pulled his dressing gown tighter around him. He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see a far more grown up Malcolm striding towards him, an enormous, elaborately wrapped gift balanced on one arm and a carrier bag that clinked with each step in the other. 

Julius almost tripped, trying to move out of his way as he came up to the house and awkwardly pressed the doorbell. He looked good, Julius noted, feeling like an old lech. Clearly a man rather than a boy but still with something akin to a baby giraffe in his movements that was endearingly sweet. His hair was huge, brown and fluffy, a big scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. He bounced on his heels as he waited for someone to answer, gaze sliding past Julius unnervingly. 

It was Jamie that answered eventually, looking impossibly young with a baby grasped in one arm and a beer in the other hand. He grinned at Malcolm and stepped out of the way, narrowly avoiding being bumped by the package. Julius followed closely behind, unsure what he should be doing without his guide. He suspected that standing outside wasn't the idea though.

The house was covered in tinsel and lights and Christmas cheer. It was warm and smelt deliciously like home cooking. 

He stood in one corner of the living room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible despite all previous evidence of invisibility. The room was full of people, some obviously part of the Macdonald clan. Malcolm had placed the box and bag on the floor and reached out for the baby. Julius was surprised at the ease in which he held her, clearly he was accustomed to it. 

"How's my God daughter then?" He asked the pudgy little form, receiving a gurgle in reply, one hand stretching up to grab at his face. 

Julius looked on in wonder at the smile Malcolm gave her. He was obviously smitten. 

"Ah, she's been grizzling all day. Teeth, you know." Her father shrugged, lifting the box. "Fucking hell Malc, what's in this thing, baby's first bowling ball?"

"It's a doll house." Malcolm beamed as a blonde woman entered the livingroom, wiping her hands on a tea towel. 

"What!" She demanded, hearing him perfectly.

"Yeah, I know it's a bit old for her but I saw it when I was down in London and I couldn't resist. It's fucking huge!" He looked up just in time to see Jamie share a look with the blonde. Julius shuffled uncomfortably, sensing trouble. What was the point of all this? He wondered.

"Erm. Thing is Malc." Jamie started. "We've bought her a doll house."

"Yeah, probably not as nice as his posh London one, fucking poser!" The woman screamed suddenly, bursting into tears. 

The baby started to cry and she grabbed her out of his arms far more violently than was necessary as Jamie shouted "For FUCK sake, Em!" before following her put of the room.

Malcolm was left in a room full of silent family, all looking at him crossly, as though he'd deliberately caused a row and ruined everyone's Christmas.

Hushed arguing could be heard from the hallway. Malcolm looked at his shoes. Julius looked at Malcolm. 

Jamie returned sheepishly.

"Malcolm, can we have a word?" He asked quietly.

The taller man just nodded, not lifting his gaze and following him back out of the front door, Julius his silent shadow. 

This was horrible, he decided as he watched them face each other.

"She's a bit high strung since Molly's been teething." Jamie begun.

"Sorry." Malcolm's voice betrayed his regret. 

"Its fine, mate, look, it's just. It's probably better for everyone if you just..." 

"Yeah. I'll go." 

"I'm sorry Malc."

"Yeah, me too."

Julius was torn between wanting to follow Malcolm as he made his way sadly back to his car and the desire to punch Jamie in the face. He wasn't normally violent by nature and didn't enjoy the feelings he was experiencing but his helplessness was irritating him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms round the younger version of his partner and take the hurt away.

"I know."

Julius jumped about three feet in the air and screamed.

"It would have been worse if he'd stayed. Everyone would have had their say, no one likes their nose rubbed in someone else's fucking wealth. Didn't matter that he wasn't all that rich, just didn't spend his money a lot. Or that my child was the only person he'd ever had the chance to spoil. Wankers would have kicked lumps out of him. I know it looks shite." Jamie looked ashamed.

"Poor Malcolm." Julius sighed. 

"Yeah."

The world hazed over again.

*

This time he recognised his surroundings.

Malcolm's.

Before they moved in together.

They had never spent very long here. Malcolm always seemed a little on edge if they did choose to stay. 

He walked swiftly up the hallway into the lounge. Christmas music was blaring merrily from the radio, the room looked like an explosion of garish colours had occurred and Malcolm was entangled in Christmas lights, cursing quietly to himself.

Still very young, Julius decided, looking carefully at his face, but closer in appearance to when they first met.

The wedding ring, he saw, had appeared in the interim.

Jamie was sprawled in the armchair, eating a sandwich. He waved at Julius, bread, flapping backwards and forwards.

"Alright Baldy!" He said brightly.

"I don't suppose this particular Christmas is full of cheer?" Julius sniped, grumpily. 

"Not really, no. But bonus! You get to see the wife. Lucky you aye? I bet you've been desperate to ask him about that ring."

"It's none of my business."

"Oh what the fuck ever, man. Everyone wants to know, no one dares ask. Bunch of whinging cowards."

"Why are you always such a prick?" Julius groaned, sitting himself next to an oblivious Malcolm, who had managed to tie up his own hands in the wire and was only succeeding in pulling the knots tighter.

"Aye up, kinky." Jamie laughed.

"Oh do shut up, James."

"Okay but only because the shows about to start, not because your Lordship demands it. So fuck you."

The front door slammed and a tiny red haired woman walked in. She came to a halt at the lounge entryway. Julius found women difficult to talk to at the best of times and almost forgot she couldn't see him as her gaze swept across the room.

"Malcolm?" Her voice was low, cultured and lacking a discernible regional accent. She was small in every way but carried herself like a giant. Her outfit of skirt and jacket impeccably tailored. Her red nails manicured, long hair pulled back, not one strand out of place. She was terrifying.

Malcolm leapt up as though shot.

"Hi, sweetheart! Hi!" His voice was hurried yet soft. "I'll be done really soon I promise." 

She raised one immaculate eyebrow at the tangled mess round his hands. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Just getting the house ready for our first Christmas, trying to make it nice. For you." Julius heard the gulp he took midway through the sentence. He'd never seen a person intimidate Malcolm so thoroughly.

"Right." She looked at the mess with disdain. "Well, you do know it's a family tradition to spend Christmas and New Year in the South of France, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Well. That's fine, that's fine. I can put it all away when we get back I suppose."

"I'm sorry, we?" 

Julius clenched his fists.

"Yeah, that's right. Nastiest fucking garden gnome on the planet." Jamie's voice mocked the unseeing woman. " just doing what she does best. Taking all his goodness and crushing it under her tiny tiny shitting boot." 

"Er, not we?" Malcolm's hands began to twist at the wires again. 

"It's a family tradition, dear"

Nobody missed his lightening quick glance at his left hand, as though checking.

"After the trouble in the summer when you called my father those unsavoury things it has been agreed that I go alone, better for everyone."

"He called me lower pond scum" Malcolm felt the need to remind her. 

"Yes and you called him an Upper Class inbred twat." She sniffed. "It was extremely unpleasant." 

Jamie cheered at that. Julius cringed.

"So, so," Malcolm looked as though he was struggling for breath.

"Oh for goodness sake do stop stuttering like a fool." She was Satan. Horrible little snake in designer heels. Julius had never ever considered striking a woman but this thing clearly wasn't human. 

Jamie was crushing his sandwich.

Malcolm took a breath then crossed to the table. The woman turned her back on him and went upstairs. Sounds floated down, unmistakably a person packing. He stood in the middle of the room, clasping a gift in his still entangled hands. Waiting for her to descend.

Julius looked at Jamie aghast.

"Yeah. This was a fantastic point in his life, can't imagine why he doesn't mention it." Jamie said, angrily, punching an ugly pink cushion into submission and squashing it behind him.

"He's just standing there." Julius said, stumped by this fact. 

"Well, he's unaware he has an audience so playing it cool isn't really a concern, is it?"

She came down, carrying a sensible little wheelie case. Placed it near the front door and returned to her husband.

"I've called a taxi, no need to... untangle yourself for me." She stepped lightly round the sofa, closer to him for the first time. He held out the gift like an offering to a deity. She lifted it up, rattled it and then sighed.

"I hope you kept the receipt if this is jewellery, you know you're terrible at picking for me."

"Oh God she's hateful." Julius groaned into his hands, unable to watch, unable to look away.

"Yup." Jamie agreed.

"Have a nice Christmas." Malcolm said faintly as she moved to the front door. The taxi had arrived. 

"You too!" She breezed, slamming the door.

Malcolm sat back down. Surveyed the mess and then quietly began to pull at his wrists until the lights came free. 

The two men watched as he packed the festivities away neatly. Julius couldn't think of anything to say.

"Better for everyone." He heard Malcolm mutter with a hollow laugh as the haze crept back.

*

This was exhausting, Julius decided as his vision returned.

He was in his own house this time. It wasn't night but it was Christmas, he could tell it was this one because the new wreathe was on the sideboard where he'd left it, waiting to be put on the door. 

Right.

Today, the day Malcolm did a runner when faced with the prospect of a family Christmas.

Or.

The day Malcolm panicked at the thought of another catastrophically bad experience involving Christmas with another person. Question was, was Malcolm Tucker alone on all Christmases in between?

"Ding ding ding! We have a fucking winner people!" Jamie's big eyes took in his surroundings and he let out a low whistle. "Nice house, mate." 

"Thank you." Julius replied absently. " he couldn't have been alone as a child."

" He did his best to piss everyone off enough to be excluded from all the fun." 

"Oh."

Julius caught sight of himself coming down the stairs. It was the most bizarre and wrong feeling ever. He couldn't look away.

"Ah, there you are Malcolm." The earlier him exclaimed as the man himself appeared through the front door with the morning papers. Malcolm smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

"Bleugh" Jamie's thoughts on the tender moment were absolute.

"Alright?" Malcolm asked calmly.

Julius then got the uncomfortable experience of watching his upsetting moment from a third party perspective as he laid out his plans. He also had the chance to watch Malcolm's reactions more closely, saw him pale at the mention of family and tradition, saw his jaw clench as Other Julius said the phrase " better for everyone if they just come here." 

He didn't remember saying that. Of course it had no significance earlier.

Malcolm, when backed into a corner, always bars his teeth and prepares to attack. He twists and struggles and fights until he's out of that damn corner. Julius knows this. 

Christmas has cornered Malcolm before. When he was less protected and didn't know enough to attack it. 

Where was he?

"Where is he?" He asked Jamie.

"How should I fucking know." Jamie replied curtly.

"Because that's the point, right? Of all of this? So I can go and fetch him?"

"Thought this was all in your head? Just a biscuit dream?" 

"James!"

"Oh fucking fine! He's at the Travel Lodge up the road. You can buy me a Porsche. Fucking Odd Couple bullshit. Merry Christmas Baldy."

The haze returned.

*

Julius climbed out of bed, glared at the empty biscuit tin and thought about how to draw Malcolm out of hiding. 

He also wondered what sort of Porsche Jamie Macdonald would prefer.

***


End file.
